was a company thing. Sort of,” Erika said, thinking that turning down Gannon’s invitation to dinner had been tougher than she’d liked. She’d put herself in an odd situation by asking the most attractive man in the world to donate sperm for her child yet swearing off sex or emotional involvement with him. “Sometimes I wish I were more like a man,” she muttered.
“What?” Jessica asked.
“Nothing. I’ll take the shrimp special,” Erika said to the waiter and closed the menu. The other women placed their orders.
Jessica turned to Erika. “You wish you were more like a man?”
“Just able to detach myself emotionally,” Erika explained.
“Like me,” Paula said.
“Exactly.” Erika smiled.
“Well, you may not need to detach yourself with the guy I’ve found for you. He’s tall, dark, handsome, smart and he’s got a sense of humor.”
“How did you find him?”
“He’s a friend of Bill’s,” Jessica said. “So we can double after you get to know him.”
“Another foot doctor?” Paula said. “Bet he’s got a fetish.”
“That’s not nice,” Jessica said. “Bill doesn’t have a foot fetish.” She turned back to Erika. “This guy, Gerald, is very good-looking, and I’ve already told him about you.”
Erika felt a shot of alarm. “What exactly did you tell him?”
“That you’re gorgeous and smart and he should call you.”
“You gave him my number? Did you tell him I want his sperm?”
“No, because I think you could want Ger more than his sperm.”
Erika’s first inclination was to politely decline. This would just complicate her plans with Gannon. He was going to father her child. He’d agreed. They just needed to get the contract signed.
She thought about how much he still affected her and took another sip of her martini. Her problem was that she still let Gannon overwhelm her. What if another man had the potential to make her forget him? Or at least help her get over him? What if Jessica’s TDH could do the job? She shouldn’t turn down the possibility without checking him out.
“Hey, if all else fails,” Paula said, “you might get a decent pedicure out of the guy.”
Erika skipped lunch and moved into her new Pulse office on Monday afternoon. She struggled with mixed feelings about leaving the HomeStyle offices, where comfort and cozy were key.
Pulse was more of a man’s world, so if she took the books she’d read on climbing the corporate ladder seriously, she would need to hide her jar of M&M’s in her desk drawer along with her hot chocolate mix with mini marshmallows.
She refused, however, to give up her frog clock or her small Tiffany lamp. She deliberately left her lamp turned on while she left to meet one of the couples she was interviewing for her baby article.
By the time she returned to the office, she was starving, but she wanted to type notes from the interview. Submerged in work, she had to force herself to answer the knock at her door.
“Sorry, I’m busy,” she called. It didn’t matter who it was. She needed to get down these last thoughts.
“Free gourmet food,” Gannon called through the door.
Her stomach growled loudly. “Give me two minutes,” she said and hurriedly typed some key words and phrases to help jog her memory when she returned to writing the article. She could keep the two-foot rule and eat at the same time. Besides her plans for later in the evening should help keep her from giving in to temptation.
She glanced at her clock, surprised at the time. Seven o’clock. She pulled on her boots and stood, stretching.
“Two minutes are up,” Gannon said, opening the door and catching her midstretch. He carried two large boxes and a small box. His dark hair was slightly mussed, his tie discarded and the top of his shirt unbuttoned, giving her a glimpse of his muscular chest. His shirtsleeves were unfastened and pushed up his forearms. She didn’t know which was more tempting, the man or the food. “Looks like you and I are the only ones left in the office.”
“Really?” she asked, surprised. “What do you have and how did you get it?”
“The food editor received these this afternoon. She told me she’s on Atkins and asked me to give them to someone else. It’s packed in dry ice and perishable, so we either eat it or toss it.”
“I hope it’s already cooked,” she said.
“I think it’s a lot of fresh fruit,” he said, opening one of the large cartons. “Help yourself.”
“Nice of you to share. I didn’t get to eat.” She pulled out several containers. “Raw oysters, avocados, chocolate-covered bananas,” she said, reading the labels. “What is this?” she asked, pulling out a split of champagne and two glasses.
“Aphrodisiac foods.”
Erika pulled her hand away from the box as if it had burned her. She looked at Gannon suspiciously. “Why did the food editor give this to you?” And why was he sharing it with her?
“The food editor is Geraldine Kanode. She’s sixty-three and was embarrassed as hell but didn’t want to throw it away.” His lips twitched. “She also said she didn’t want to take this stuff home and give her husband any ideas. I can toss it …” He waved the container of chocolate-covered bananas.
Erika’s stomach growled again. Hunger won over suspicion. “No, no, no. Wouldn’t want it to go to waste.” She motioned him over to her desk. “What are you still doing here?”
“An editor’s work is never done,” he said. “You know that.”
She nodded and smiled, happy to put the desk between her and Gannon. “Can’t disagree. I’m not big on raw oysters. They’re all yours.”
“Working on my sperm count?” He shot her a half grin that made her heart clench.
“That wasn’t my first thought, but it’s not a bad idea, is it?” She pulled out two plastic spoons and some napkins.
Gannon pulled a leather chair closer to her desk and sat down. “Avocado with basil vinaigrette?” he said, offering the small tub to her.
“Sounds good,” she said and took a bite of one of the halves. “Delicious. I wonder what this has to do with aphro—”
“Symbolizes the male testicles,” he said and ate an oyster.
Erika swallowed a second bite along with a wave of self-consciousness. “Never thought of that,” she said and looked at the avocado. She finished her half and shrugged. “Who would have known?”
“Champagne?” he asked, opening
